We're Going to the Other Side of Town

It was the Sunday evening closing out a holiday weekend.  I’d been driving for most of the morning – on and off, of course.  Like with most things in my life, I get bored of things if I do them for too long in one sitting.  I was on the cusp of calling it a day, but there was a concert to be had… on the opposite side of town.  Now, when I say, “opposite side of town” I need you to read “traffic,” “miles,” and “time.”  The fares that ride share companies give their independent contractors are directly proportional to all of these, less their cut and other fees they charge the drivers, and of course gas, insurance, maintenance…blah, blah, blah.  So other side of town is essentially money to be had.  All day I was hoping that I could get at least ONE ride to the opposite of town for this concert.  Subsequent to that, I was also rather intrigued by what crowd this particular artist would attract – I was also a bit befuddled by how someone I’d seen on a patio at a bar in Austin a couple of years ago, was playing in the same arena as Justin Timberlake and Pearl Jam.  It didn’t compute and damnit, I was gonna get to the bottom of this. 

5:37: Alert for a ride request comes in.  I take it.  And cross my fingers whilst driving it’s someone who’s super stoked for this show and wants to get there really early.

5:41:  I arrive at the pick-up location.  Within a minute a muscular man walks out, drink in hand, barefoot.  “Definitely not going to that concert,” I think to myself.  Immediately, I want to tell him this is not 7/11 and you may not be barefoot in my nearly new car.  He lets me know his friend is going to the bathroom and will be out in a minute.

5:42:  Friend emerges from the house.  He’s wearing one of those Polo shirts that makes me want to put on a straight face and in all seriousness ask him, “Hey!  Is that a Polo shirt?  I thought it looked like one, but I couldn’t tell!”  Don’t worry, I held my sarcasm.  Mike approaches the passenger side door, also carrying a drink – but he at least has shoes on.  The conversation goes something like this:

Mike:  Um, so Anna… um… I have this sorta weird thing that’s happening.  Are you in a hurry?

I immediately think the dude has the diarrhea and wonder why he’s being honest with me about something so personal.  I keep listening.

Mike:  So, yea.  I’m gonna need a few more minutes.  I need a drink.  So I met this girl at this strip club a few days ago.  We’re gonna go pick her up "Light It Up" (popular strip club with an amazing buffet, I've heard... here in town).  And then we’re gonna go to the other side of town to this concert. 

Thinking to myself, “Ching, ching, ching!!  Money, money, money!!” and “Hmm… not really the type I’d peg to be someone to go to THIS concert.  Oh well.” 

Then it dawns on me what he said. 

Me:  Ok, so let me get this straight… You’re gonna go have another drink, I’m gonna sit here, and then we’re gonna go pick up a stripper who you’ve recently met, and then I’m gonna take you to the other side of town?

Mike:  I don’t think she’s a stripper.  I mean, that would be bad if she were a stripper, right?

Me:  Wait, you don’t know her?  Are you on Tinder or Snapchat or something?  She’s at the strip club, right now, right?  And you met her at the strip club a few nights ago?  Mike, she’s totally a stripper.  And yes, I’ll wait here while you have another drink because I am NOT missing this for the 

world.

About 5 minutes go by.  Mike gets in the car.  He tells me about his recent “messy” divorce and custody battle.  About how his granddad died earlier in the year AND how his mother committed suicide too.  He told me it was the worst year in his life.  I felt bad for him.  He seemed like a good guy – I suddenly stopped judging his stripper picking up shenanigans and felt empathetic for what he must be feeling inside.  Then he texted the stripper.

Mike:  She said she’s changing.  Let’s park at the back of the parking lot and wait there for her.

Me:  Changing?  Seriously, Mike?!  We’re picking up a stripper.  Who you don’t know.  And who you don’t remember what she looks like.  I have a really bad feeling about this.  Remember, I’m the sober one.  What if she’s actually an escort too?  And after she escorts you to this concert, some big dude bounces out waiting for his cut of the deal?  What if you don’t have the money and you wake up in a bathtub filled with ice and no kidneys?  Seriously Mike… just go get the big dude in that driveway I picked you up from, tell him to put shoes on and take bring him to the show.

Mike just laughed at me.  And we kept chatting about life.  We actually had a lot in common we realized… as we sat there waiting for a maybe Asian, maybe Mexican stripper to change and come to the car.  She finally emerged.  With a VERY large man in a suit, following her and carrying her bag.  I looked at Mike and said, “Well, there you go… she’s making sure you know this is a business transaction.”

After the big dude put the stripper's belongings in the car, Mike and the stripper had an obligatory, slightly awkward hug… they hopped in the backseat.  There wasn’t a whole lot of great conversation coming from the backseat on the journey to the stripper’s house, so I thought I’d ask about how business was going.  Mike asked about her “exit plan” – she didn’t understand.   We got to the strippers house for her to drop her bag off.  I turned around and looked Mike in the eye.

Me:  Dude, we can just leave.  Say the word. 

Mike:  I mean, that’s mean right?  I’ll just go to the concert and tell her I’ll drop her back off at home or the club on my way back to my friends.  That’s cool, right?

Me:  Cool if she’s a regular chic who didn’t get escorted from the strip club to the car by a large man.  A large man who probably gets a cut of her earnings. 

Mike: Shit. 

Stripper emerges again, gets in the car and is suddenly SO excited about this concert.  If Mr. Polo didn’t strike me as this artist’s fan base, the stripper is the opposite of his fan base.  She googled him, which to her credit I think is a smart move, you know… so you know who you’re seeing. 

We arrive to the venue.  I tell them to have fun.  And to give me a shout if they need anything.  Mike turns back and flashes me an “Oh, god, wtf am I doing” forced smile.  I shake my head, wave and head back to the other side of town.

Lessons learned: 

1.  Always discuss the terms of business transaction prior to work commencing.

2.  If it looks like a duck, talks like a duck and walks like a duck – It’s probably a duck.
3.  Strippers make a lot of money.  Currently more than this University of Michigan Grad is making - and I didn't get to go see Ed Sheeren play in a way too big area for Ed Sheeren to be playing in.

Oh hey, is that a Polo shirt?